Not Good Enough for Truth in Cliché
by PatronSaintGabriel
Summary: Escape The Fate songfic One of the team members plays a game of Russian Roulette, determined to lose. WARNING: References to slash boy/boy and character death


Okay, so this is my first ever posted fanfic. I don't own either of the two characters in the story (I'm just so evil that you have to wait until the end to find out who it is) and I don't own the song either. It's called Not Good Enough for Truth in Cliché by Escape The Fate. Reviews would be very much appreciated..... Thanks for reading! -Gabriel-

_**Hurtful words**_

_**From my enemies of the last five years**_

_**What's it like to die alone?  
**_

He had stumbled into his bedroom, unable to see past the tears streaming down his face. How could this happen? It wasn't possible, there was no way... But the room was empty, and the small bits of his heart shattered as he spotted the picture of the three on the nightstand. He threw it to the floor in both anger and pain and sat heavily on the bed.

_**How does it feel when tears freeze**_

_**When you cry?**_

_**The blood in your veins is twenty below  
**_

His cell phone was ringing insistently in his coat pocket but he couldn't bring himself to go back to the bedroom door and answer it. His hand went to his hip, but after a moment of hesitation he opened the night stand drawer instead. _Might as well do it right_, he thought bitterly as he picked the object up. The weight of it in his hand was a welcome comfort as he opened the chamber and dumped out five bullets. With the sixth remaining in place, he put the chamber back in place and spun the cylinder until he lost track of the bullet's position.

_**Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette**_

_**Finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet**_

_**Out from the window see her backdrop silhouette**_

_**This blood on my hands is something I cannot forget  
**_

He didn't hesitate to raise the revolver to his temple, but someone slammed their fist on his door and nearly made him drop the revolver in surprise. He spun the cylinder a few more times, waiting for the person to stop knocking.

_**Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette**_

_**Finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet**_

_**Out from the window see her backdrop silhouette**_

_**This blood on my hands is something I cannot forget**_

_**...Something I cannot forget  
**_

It took a while until they left. He spent the time staring out the window, not that there was much to see. It was far better than the alternative of staring at the revolver and his hands, which were still coated in blood. He had been torn between washing it off or just going home to do this, and he had run out of time. The latter had seemed like a better idea to him. Finally, the person at the door left and he raised the revolver once more. He looked up at the ceiling and murmured, "I'm sorry," before taking a breath and squeezing the trigger.

_**So for now, take this down a notch**_

_**Crash my car through your window**_

_**Make sure you're still alive**_

_**Just in time to kill you  
**_

He let out a sob as the gun clicked harmlessly in his ear. He tried again, and again it clicked without firing.

"No!" Again, the same result.

_**Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette**_

_**Finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet**_

_**Out from the window see her backdrop silhouette**_

_**This blood on my hands is something I cannot forget  
**_

He glared at the revolver and was tempted for a moment to throw the gun away from him. He tried again.

"Dammit!"

One more blind shot. It's fifty-fifty. He hesitated this time. Did he really want to die?

_**Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette**_

_**Finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet**_

_**Out from the window see her backdrop silhouette**_

_**This blood on my hands is something I cannot forget**_

_**...Something I cannot forget  
**_

_**I can't take this (take) anymore**_

_**I can't take this (take) anymore**_

_**I can't take this (take) anymore**_

_**(I cannot feel what you've done to me)**_

_**I can't take this (take) anymore**_

_**(What you've done to me)  
**_

He whispered his apology to the clouds once more and, calmly closing his eyes, squeezed the trigger one more time.

_**So for now, take this down a notch**_

_**Crash my car through your window  
**_

His front door flew open with a bang, and then the bedroom door a second later.

"What the hell are you doing?" He looked up at the intruder, squinting to see him through blurred eyes. His voice is shaking as he responds.

"Five shots. I'm not that lucky. If I was-" His voice cracked. He raised the revolver and fired a single round into the wall. "It should've been me." He grabbed one of the bullets he had dumped out, slid it into the chamber that had held the used bullet, and glanced over at the intruder, offering a half-smile that was shadowed by pain. He held the revolver out towards the other man, nearly letting it slip from his grasp due to the blood. "You want a go, Tony?" Tony gaped at him a moment before slowly reaching a hand out and taking the revolver from his lover's grasp.

_**Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette**_

_**Finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet**_

_**Out from the window see her backdrop silhouette**_

_**This blood on my hands is something I cannot forget  
**_

Tony's eyes were locked on the revolver. He said nothing.

"Russian Roulette. Spin the cylinder. Fire a shot. I take the gun, I do the same. It's not hard." He was surprised at how steady his voice had become. "Either do it or give the damn thing back."

Tony didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he suddenly crushed the end of the barrel to his temple and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened, and he almost fainted with relief. "Please don't."

He gave the same wry smile and gently pulled the gun from Tony's grasp. "He's dead, Tony. It's my fault." Tony wanted to yell 'No!' but he didn't. Tony didn't do anything; he was frozen in place. "You know I love you, right? I really do. Don't forget that." He barely hesitated before lightly pressing his lips to Tony's. He raised the gun to his left temple and squeezed the trigger.

_**Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette**_

_**Finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet**_

_**Out from the window see her backdrop silhouette**_

_**This blood on my hands is something I cannot forget**_

_**...Something I cannot forget  
**_

As he fell backwards onto the bed, a tranquil expression washed over his face despite the blood gushing out of him. Tony let out a strangled cry and dove for the revolver. He slipped it from his lover's fingers once more, blood coating his hands, and hurriedly pushed another bullet into the chamber. He didn't spin it this time, but merely raised it to his forehead.

"I love you, Tim," he murmured before squeezing the trigger. Nobody could blame them for wanting the escape, especially not right after Gibbs had just been shot dead. Tony's body had fallen directly next to Tim's, one arm draped across Tim's waist, and that's how they were found a few hours later. And yet, despite the blood soaking them both and the bed they had fallen onto, they both looked far more at peace than they had ever been in life.


End file.
